ARYAN
Dawn at the Suryagarh palace was one of the most beautiful sights I had seen. The sun was blood orange, standing against the purple and red sky. The air was chilly, and I was up at 4:30 a.m., despite sleeping after midnight. It wasn't like my sleep was mine, anyway. They were hers.
I took a drag from my cigarette, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals as I brought the phone to my ear. "Veer, wake up."
There was a groggy shuffle on the other end, followed by a muffled groan. "Sir, it's 4:30 a.m. I'm begging you, let me sleep. My workday doesn't start until eight."
"Did they review the project details?" I asked, ignoring his question.
"Did who review what?" My assistant managed to speak, between yawning.
I exhaled sharply, flicking ash off the cigarette. "You're fired."
The sound of hurried shuffling replaced the groggy mumbling. "Okay, okay, I'm up! Just give me a second. What were you asking again?"
"The Murthy Group. Did they send their feedback?"
"There's no official response yet," Veer said after a pause, his voice a little sharper now. "But they've sent some notes. They seem to like the proposal so far, but we're waiting for their final decision."
I nodded absentmindedly, though he couldn't see me. "Good. And—"
I stopped mid-sentence, my attention snapping to the sound of soft footsteps.
The echo of heels climbing the stone stairs toward the terrace was unmistakable. My grip on the phone loosened slightly. Even if I didn't recognize the lightness of her step, her voice—sharp and cutting as it rose through the morning air—would have given her away.
"I told you to handle this merger yesterday! Why am I getting calls about delays now?"
"Sir? Are you still there?" Veer's voice broke through the haze.
Even if it weren't for the softness and lightness of her feet as she padded her way up the stairs, it was the sound of her voice, as she screamed at someone. But it was just one pair of footsteps, so she must be screaming at someone on a call.
"Sir?" He spoke again. I pulled the phone away from my ear and cut the call without another word. I focused on the sound of her voice. She was still on the phone, commanding and fiery as ever.
"You've had three days to fix this," she snapped, her tone sharp and uncompromising. "I don't care what it takes—just get it done before I follow up again. Is that clear?" Her voice cut through the stillness, brisk and unyielding.
I leaned casually against the railing, the faint sound of her footsteps drawing closer with each passing second. She didn't know yet that the terrace she was heading to, seeking solitude, was already occupied—by me.
Her steps faltered, stopping abruptly, and I could feel her awareness of my presence settle into the air.
"Morning," I said lazily, not bothering to turn.
She didn't respond immediately, and out of curiosity, I flipped the camera on my phone, angling it to capture her. She was glancing around—the stairs, the terrace, and finally, at me. After a deep breath, as though steadying herself, she strode forward, her heels clicking deliberately against the stone floor.
Stopping a few feet from me, she leaned against the railing, keeping the distance between us pointedly intact.
"I half-expected you to turn around and leave," I remarked, flicking ash from the cigarette in my hand.
"And why should I?" she countered, her tone sharp, her gaze unflinching. "Why should I leave just because you're here?"
A faint smirk tugged at my lips. "Isn't that what we do best, Princess? Isn't that the reason why we have stopped being in each other's presence?"
Her eyes narrowed, the spark of defiance unmistakable. "You give yourself too much credit. I'm not leaving just because you're here. That would mean you matter."
I let out a low chuckle, leaning further against the railing. "Keep telling yourself that. You and I both know this would be a lot easier if we didn't have to keep crossing paths."
"Then stop being where I am," she shot back, folding her arms. "I don't change my plans for anyone, especially not you, Peasant."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't move. Instead, she turned her gaze to the horizon, her posture stiff with unspoken tension. I could tell she hated standing there with me, hated sharing the same air—but she wasn't going to leave. Not today. Especially, not after last night.
Last night had been something—a carefully constructed charade of words and gestures, where every smile and glance served a purpose. People bought into it easily. But I knew better. Behind the façade, there were cracks—hers and mine. Mine, mostly.
I gestured broadly to the terrace with a lazy hand. "By all means, stay. After all, it's not like you're planning to bolt anytime soon, right?"
Her expression faltered for just a moment, enough for me to notice. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I turned to face her fully, leaning against the railing, the smirk slipping into something colder. "You know exactly what it means. Do you think I don't know that you are a flight risk? You think I don't know that it wasn't just a threat?"
She stiffened, her gaze darting away for a fraction of a second before snapping back to mine. "What if it wasn't? You said I should feel free to try."
"I did," I said, my voice calm but carrying an edge. "But that doesn't mean I'm okay with you toying with the idea."
"And why not?" she shot back, holding her ground despite the tension radiating between us. "I still have a choice. I can still walk away from all of this—"
I stepped forward and she stopped talking. For the second time in our entire lives had she reacted that way. The first time was extremely entertaining and something I couldn't get out of my mind. This time was nowhere near as interesting as last time.
"Did you forget what I said last night, Princess?" I asked her. "Did you think I was joking when I told you I won't let you make a fool of me and my family in front of the entire world." My voice was low.
"You think this marriage is optional?" I cut her off, my voice sharp now, the rising anger slipping through. "You think you can just pick up and leave whenever you feel like it?"
Her gaze hardened, her voice unwavering. "If I wanted to leave, Aryan, you wouldn't be able to stop me."
I let out a bitter laugh, that sounded colder than I intended. "Run, then. Go ahead, Princess. Try it. Let's see how far you get before I bring you back."
She pushed me away from her and walked towards the ledge. "You don't command me. I will run if I want to. I will stay if that's my wish. Don't worry though, you will be notified of my decision."
I stepped forward. She stepped back. "For how long do you plan on running away, my soon-to-be-wife?"
She glared at me. "Until I can get rid of you, completely."
Her words struck like a blade, but instead of backing down, I lunged forward, grabbing her shoulders and pinning her against the cold stone of the railing. Her breath hitched as my grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to make sure she couldn't escape.
"Hey!" She said and struggled against my hold. "Let go of me."
I didn't reply and kept my gaze steadfast on her. She tried to find her way out of my hold, but my grip was strong. And I wasn't planning on letting go.
"I swear to God, Peasant! Let me--" She paused when I shook her and looked at me.
"You've been running for eleven years now, Princess. Can't seem to be getting rid of me." She froze in my hold. "Eleven years you've been running, fighting, clawing at every chance to push me away. And yet, here I am." I pushed her further against the railing and leaned further into her.
She didn't reply. She didn't even move. She just looked. "What are you getting at?" She finally asked.
I pushed the hair strand that had come undone from her ponytail away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "For more than a decade, all you've done is push me away from you. Tried to keep a distance and just run. But unfortunately for you, you've been running to me."
Her jaw went slack, and she stared at me. "How delusional are you?"
I smirked. "Delusion. The same word you used that day."
Her face paled, and for the briefest moment, her eyes shifted, a flash of something dark crossing her expression. She had gone back to that day. "Aryan, let go of me!" She tried to push me away from her. Fear drives her actions. She was scared that day too.
I let go of her and stepped back enough to give her space.
"It was a reminder of the past, Princess. Keep running. Because the more you run away, the more you come to me." I took another step back.
She seethed, her jaw tightening, and I could see her chest rising and falling with the effort to control her breathing. Deep breaths. She was trying to steady herself, trying to push back against the fire I had sparked in her. She wouldn't let me see how much my words had gotten under her skin, but I could feel the change in the air, the shift from anger to something deeper. Something more raw.
"You're right, Aryan," she said, her words slow and deliberate. "I have been running away. That part is true." She paused, the tension in her voice palpable before her gaze darkened. "But not from you."
I waited. Finally, the lies and the deflections were coming to a halt, even though for just this moment. Because I pushed her to a corner.
She nodded, but the movement was small, barely perceptible. Her gaze never faltered as she stood there, her back straight and her shoulders squared. "No," she said again, her voice gaining strength. "Not from you." She looked at me, her eyes full of something I couldn't quite place, something deeper than resentment. "From myself."
I frowned. Her words slammed into me like a freight train, and for a moment, I was stunned into silence.
Her head tilted to the side, as she looked at me. "What? Surprised?" She mocked. "Surprised that my life doesn't revolve around you?" She said and walked to me. Closer and closer. Enough to touch me with her body, if she so much as moved. "Surprised that it wasn't you?" And then leaned closer. "That it has never been you?" And whispered, "Ever?"
She hit me exactly where it hurt. The way I used the events of that night to rile her up, she did the same with me.
"Unfortunately for you, Princess," I said, my voice low and deliberate, each word cutting through the tense silence between us, "once we're married, every part of your life will revolve around me."
She let out a sharp, humourless laugh, her lips curling into a mocking smirk. "First of all, Aryan, we don't live in the dark ages," she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "A wife's life stopped revolving around her husband centuries ago. Maybe you missed the memo."
I narrowed my eyes, but before I could respond, she took a step closer, her chin tilting up defiantly. "And second," she continued, her voice turning smug, "who's to say we'll even get married? There's still time for me to run. Far away. And trust me, Aryan, if I decide to run, you won't find me."
Her words were meant to provoke me, and they succeeded. A flicker of anger ignited in my chest, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing it. Instead, I let out a slow, cold chuckle, shaking my head as I closed the space between us.
"You're tempting me with a good time, Princess," I said, a smirk tugging at my lips. "But do you have the courage to see it through?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You keep saying that you will run away." I stepped back, distancing myself from her. "You keep threatening me with it when in turn, you are teasing me with it. You are teasing me with a chase."
She sucked in a breath and stepped back. I did too. I stepped back too. "A chase to--"
I paused when I heard another pair of footsteps, getting louder with each passing second. She turned to look at me, questioning why I stopped mid-sentence and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when I pressed a finger to my lips.
Something about the footfall of the person walking up the stairs set me on alert. There was something about it that irked the beast in me. The beast that becomes alert, whenever it's in her presence.
“Oh, don’t stop on my account. Please, continue your fighting—whatever it was about,” came a familiar voice from the staircase. His face came into view, and Anil Mama's face popped from the end of the staircase. His aged eyes were inquisitive and teasing as he looked at me and Kethaki and his smirk said a lot.
“Excuse me?” Kethaki whispered, narrowing her eyes at him, clearly caught off guard.
On the rare occasion that I felt genuine elation in my chest, Mama Ji's presence had always been one reason to bring it.
"I had heard of this infamous rivalry, but I didn't think I would get to witness it."
"Mama Ji," I said and bent down to touch his feet.
He placed his hands on my head, blessing me.
“So,” he said, his gaze flicking back to Kethaki, “should I be expecting a full-blown war in this marriage? At every turn?” His tone was light, but his words carried that trademark mix of humour and seriousness.
Kethaki’s brow furrowed, clearly unsure how to respond. Before she could say anything, his attention shifted entirely to her. “And you must be the bride,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly in mock thoughtfulness. “I don’t believe we’ve met before… or have we?”
Kethaki looked at him carefully, her face blank as she searched her memory. Finally, she shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said cautiously.
He tilted his head, pondering for a moment, then suddenly snapped his fingers. His eyes widened with realization. “Ah! No, we have met. It was at Arya’s 38th birthday celebration, right before I moved back to the States. You were just a young girl back then,” he said, his voice softer now, laced with nostalgia.
Kethaki’s expression changed subtly—less defensive now, more measured.
"You were a young girl back then," he said and looked at me. "You probably won't introduce us, so I should do the honours, myself."
I didn't reply and watched the scene unfold. Mama Ji was one of the most important people in my life. He was a part of my family and her interaction with him in that moment would determine how their relationship would unfold in the future.
"I am Anil, Arya's twin brother." Kethaki's mouth dropped open as she realised that she was talking to the last blood relative of my late mother.
She bent down to touch his feet.
But before she could, Anil Mama jumped back, holding up his hands in protest. “Oh, no, no, no!” he exclaimed, his tone sharp but good-natured. “I don’t care if you’re engaged to my nephew—you’re still an unmarried girl. Don’t you dare touch my feet and make me a sinner!”
Kethaki straightened abruptly, startled by his sudden shift in tone. Her brows furrowed in confusion, but he merely laughed, waving off her unease.
“I’ve been away too long to let traditions trip me up now,” he said, his voice light again.
"Yeah, you hate traditions to the point that you bothered to show up five days before my wedding and not be a part of the wedding ceremony," I stated, then brought the long-forgotten cigarette back to my lips, and took one last drag, before extinguishing it with my foot.
Mama Ji smiled warmly. "I had work, Beta. I don't have anyone who can take care of the business while I am away, so I couldn't come back."
"I should leave," Kethaki said, and folded his hands in front of Mama Ji, before glaring at me, and going on her way back to her room.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Mama Ji asked as he stared after Kethaki's retreating form, descending the stairs.
"Ask Papa that question," I replied.
"Don't pretend as though Jija Ji can make you do anything you don't want to do," he said, and then placed a hand on my shoulder, leaned closer to me, and continued, "or were not planning on doing it, in the first place."
I huffed. "This time, it's actually true." I looked at him. "And there is another reason."
Mama Ji's brows furrowed. "Which is?"
"It's nothing serious," I replied, and walked over to the stairs, ready to walk back to my room and try to sleep more. Which reminded me. "Why are you up at this hour?" I asked him.
He caught up to me, his steps deliberate but unhurried, the kind of pace that demanded answers without needing to say so outright. "Jet lag, beta," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But let me tell you, I don’t buy this nonsense answer of yours—that it’s nothing serious." His eyes narrowed slightly. "It must be, considering you’re still going through with the wedding, even after she threatened to run away."
I looked at him. "You heard it?"
"Of course I heard it," he scoffed. "You two are particularly loud and it's early hours of the morning."
"Yes," I admitted, my voice steady. "I would still go through with it. Even if it meant driving her to run away from me."
He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Why is that?"
A small smile crept onto my face as I looked at him. "Because, Mama Ji," I said, my tone softening, "there is no corner of this Earth where she can run away to, and I won’t be there waiting to greet her—and bring her back."
He didn’t reply immediately. He tilted his head slightly, studying me with the quiet intensity only he could manage. Finally, after a few moments of silence, he asked quietly, "Is that so?"
"Yes"
He chuckled. "Then I suppose there’s nothing left to discuss, is there?"
There wasn’t any question about it. Why she thought otherwise was beyond me. Her name had been intertwined with mine long before either of us had a say in the matter, and she had already consented to the inevitable, even if she couldn’t see it yet. She was mine now—not in a way that bound or caged her, but in a way that fate itself had woven into the fabric of our lives.
The marriage would only solidify what was already written in the stars. She could try to run, but I would always be there. Patient. Waiting. Ready to capture her and bring her back.
Did she want to run away? She was more than welcome to. She could run away. Hell, a part of me wanted her to escape.
After all, she had no idea how much I loved a good chase.
~*~
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